Revenge from my Mother and I
by MattieWinter
Summary: After being viciously dumped, Meg's mother consults her and they get back at Arthur in a creative way. Bricks are also wonderful things. Human names used. UkCan and UkUs. Fem!France, Fem!Canada, Fem!America AU


Hey guys, okay so here a short piece of mine.

What is was inspired by will be in the bottom.

**Hetalia and it's character's are owned by its creator.**

Meg/Marguerite- Fem!Canada

Frances (The female form of Francis)- Fem!France

Amelia- Fem!America

Arthur- England

I would also like to say I do not condone this style of revenge, but if it floats your boat and you want to use it, be my guest. You just didn't hear about it from me.

* * *

Ms. Frances Bonnefoy was an interesting woman. Fiery, passionate, romantic and sassy in every meaning of the word. Frances was aloof and always got what she wanted with her outspokenness. How she ended up with possibly the most down to Earth, shyest, quiet child she'd ever encountered would always be a mystery to her. She loved her little Meg all the same. Though it was true that she often didn't see Meg creep into the room or come home from school, that she dozed off when her daughter spoke to her from time to time she was still her daughter. That was the exact reason why when her daughter came to her, the Mama Bear inside her awakened.

That afternoon, her baby had burst through the front door in a flurry that was so unlike her that Frances was immediately alerted to the wrongness of the situation. "Bunny?" She asked as Meg threw her backpack down as she passed her mother's office on her way upstairs. Something must have been seriously wrong for her baby girl to not even say hello to her.

Putting her manuscript to rest and removing her half-moon reading glasses, she rubbed her temples in preparation for the talk that was to ensue. Meg was highly rational and level headed for a teenager and for that, Frances was grateful. Though when her darling baby was upset, it was enough to shatter the atmosphere of the house, especially since it was only the two of them alone. Rising from her desk, she started the foreboding climb to her daughter's room.

Her feet padded across the plush carpet in their two bedroom condo and it wasn't long before she arrived before the door of the weeping girl, made obvious by the sobbing sound seeping through the wood. Opening the bedroom door, the obscene shade of what Meg called "Canada Red" struck her. But her daughter's lack of ability to choose colors tastefully was set aside.

On the bed was a big ball of blankets that she knew held her beloved baby. "Darling," she started softly as she cuddled up with the lump, "tell Mama what happened at school. Tell me why you act this way?"

A muffled, "Go away!" came from the mound. Frances tutted and rubbed her daughter's back through the blanket.

"Please dear? Mama cannot help unless you tell her, and I very much want to know what is troubling you." She desperately wanted to know now. It wasn't often, if ever, that she had to ask Meg twice to know her thoughts.

Peeping her head out, Meg's face was red. Snot dripping from her nose, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, and eyes puffy and red. "Maybe," she began in a barely audible whisper, "if I can have some pancakes." Looking to her mother, with puppy eyes she blinked and sniffled, waiting for a response.

Trying to hide the surprise on her face as Meg's face appeared; she softened her gaze and nodded, "I will do my best Baby. Just give me a little bit and have a tissue." Grabbing her daughter's face and kissing her forehead, Frances got up walked out the door and down stairs to get started on her child's favorite food.

Twenty minutes later, she finally had a plate of acceptable pancakes that were drenched in maple syrup. Grabbing a fork and ever so carefully making her way back upstairs, she knocked on the door and entered. "Guess what I have?"

The scent of the syrup and baked bread-cake hit Meg harder than a hammer to a nail. Sitting up quickly, she stayed huddled in the blankets as she pleaded silently with her mom to come closer. And closer she did. Frances almost laughed when the young girl's hands popped out and took the plate and as her mouth nearly vacuumed the pancakes off the plate.

Sitting next to her, the older woman waited and watched her daughter gobble up the food. It didn't take long for the girl to finish and set the plate down on the bed side table. Unsure of how to start, she just decided it was best to be general. It was, after all, how her mother wrote her books, "Mom, did you know that kids are mean?"

Closing her eyes, she hummed in agreement, "Yes. Children generally are."

Meg rubbed her nose and continued, "Well, when I got to school, people were looking at me funny. They snickered and I didn't know why!" By this time, Meg was crying again. "I was feeling bad so I go to lunch to sit with Arthur and he was. He was…" She cut off in a tearful fit. Cooing gently, trying to calm her baby, Frances encouraged her to go on. "He was sitting there with Amelia. KISSING! I asked him what was going on and he said he got tired of me last month! And he's been with my best friend ever since!" Shouting the last part, Meg took a moment to catch her breath and finished when her mother placed an arm around her. "I asked Amelia why she would do such a thing and she threw food at me. Then another kid, and then a bunch! And for the rest of the day they all…"

Frances didn't need to hear anymore. She was at her resolve. Shushing Meg she spoke, "I have a good lesson to teach you tonight. Get some sleep and I'll wake you up when it is time." She was short and clip. Eyes steeled over, her accent cut through the room.

She eyed mother suspiciously, for every time her mother was insistent on some plan or another, it generally ended one of two ways: in chaos or her mother getting laid some time later that week. Though somehow, it was always an experience she'd never forget and it always ended up teaching her at least somewhat useful things like letting a drunk frat boy touch your butt on "accident" (not that she did, it was more her mother drunk at a party, she convinced her daughter to go to) you will have free drinks for the night and that you can, in fact, play paintball in a full length skirt. You just need proper shoes and a calm head. Nodding, she closed her eyes and drifted off. Her day had been exhausting and she just wanted it to be over.

Waiting to be sure her little angel was asleep; Frances removed herself from the bed and grabbed the plate. Taking it down to the kitchen, she went over a mental check list of what they'd need: plastic wrap, duct tape, eggs, spray paint in bright green, black clothing, and a brick. Yes, definitely a brick.

After several hours of gathering what they needed, hunting down the house, redressing and just eating, it was finally time. Tiptoeing to Meg's room, she shook her should until she woke up in a daze, "Mom," Meg grumbled, "What is it? Why are you waking me up at one in the morning?" Groggily, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Marguerite, darling, tonight Mama is going to teach you how to deal with vain asses. " Throwing a black mass onto the bed, she added, "Put these on and be down stairs in five minutes. We have to do this fast." Leaving for the girl's privacy, Frances waited by the door. Pulling herself out of bed, Meg did as she was told and was down in only three.

Waiting by the door was her mother, decked out in black like she was with a duffle bag on her shoulder. "Three minutes," she began casually, "new record. Now go get in the car. Let's go." Holding the door open, Frances waited for Meg to go through and she closely followed, and closed the door.

The car ride wasn't long and Meg sat in her seat slightly angered that her mother wouldn't tell her where they were going. It wasn't but fifteen minutes later, however, that her mother pulled along the curb of English Avenue and parked five houses down from Arthur's home.

Panicking, Meg questioned her mother, "What are we doing here?!"

"You'll see, get out!" Her mother popped herself out of the car and grabbed the duffle bag from the backseat.

Following her mother down the street, her steps were quick and clip compared to her mother's relaxed movements as though she'd done this hundreds of times. The cool night air stung her nose as she breathed and she forced herself to calm down.

Stopping in front of the Kirkland home, Frances pulled her daughter part way into a large hedge with her. "Okay sweetie, I'm going to teach you how you fuck up the day of whoever decided to fuck up yours. Phase one is," reaching into the bag, she pulled out two cans of lime green spray paint and a carton of eggs, "Operation Slimy Lizard. We're going to repaint then egg his car."

The girl just rolled her eyes. Couldn't her mother be normal for once and say, talk to Arthur's parent about how he treated women? No, apparently she couldn't. Meg thought that Arthur did deserve it however and she wouldn't just let this opportunity slip by. Taking a can, she pulled herself out of the bushes, shaking the can, and deciding where the first spot on the beautiful, shiny black car she'd deface first. Her train of thought was interrupted by her mom trying to turn the chrome bumper into a Green and sliver candy cane. "Oh fuck it," She thought to herself and aimed for the hood. Pressing her finger down, paint shot out and she sprayed hearts.

They continued on until his car was covered in random doodles of stick figures, one cow, stripes, dots, and a diagram of a vagina on his windshield. In short, it was art! "Now, the eggs. Just crush them anywhere. I would suggest the top so it runs down!" Frances just smiled and offered her daughter the first egg.

Finally feeling brave, Meg grabs two and wastes no time throwing them at every side of the car, letting the yolk and whites run down steel and fill in cracks. She snickered to herself. This wasn't usually something she did, getting back at people or going along with her mother's crazy plans. Though this one was good and enjoyable.

Frances tutted when Meg went to get more eggs but found none and pouted. "Dear, you know me better than that. We always keep a mess contained." She changed her faux frown into a smirk and held up two packages of plastic wrap, the kind usually used for food.

Taking the package from her Mother, she began to wrap the tired before he mom touched her shoulder. "What now? Is there a better way," she asked sarcastically?

"Actually yes, get on the other side, I'll hand it under the car." Her baby was so cute trying to wrap the tires. You always do that last because they didn't matter as much as the rest of the car.

Getting in position, Mag and Frances worked quickly to get the poor car sealed in plastic. Once they finished, Frances pulled out a roll of duct tape. "Now we wrap our little present in a bow!"

Meg resisted the urge to snort. The tape was red, white, and blue; the colors of her mother's flag. Ever so carefully, she began to stick the tape and pull it around the car, front to back as Frances used her own roll to go from roof to undercarriage causing the tape to weave itself into a carpet of red and white. Once bother rolls ran out, they used the two blue roles to make an X that traveled diagonally from wheel to wheel and intersected in the center of the roof.

By this time, Meg was on the edge of laughing herself silly. This was a great prank to pull on the asshole. Grabbing their trash off the ground, she began to stuff it in the bag until she found a brick. Pulling it out, Meg weighed it and deemed it a rather hefty brick indeed. It made her curious.

"Mama, why is there a brick in the bag?"

"Do you feel satisfied and no longer angry?"

"Um, yes?" She answered, trying to figure out what her mother was trying to do.

Frances smiled. She was glad that her daughter was content again, but she wasn't. Not yet. "Good, because I'm not. Though that isn't the point. Come here with that."

Meg obeyed and her mother took the brick and put an arm over her daughter's shoulder, "I know that you're feeling hurt, but you will love again someday." She paused and looked into Meg's eyes, "Because time will heal a broken heart." Frances kissed Meg's forehead and squeezed her tight.

"Aw, Mama, I love you to. Thank you."

Letting her daughter go, Frances continued on, "And I you darling. But as I was saying, it'll heal a broken heart. But not that bastard's window!" Using one hell of an arm, Frances lobbed the brick through Arthur's window, pointed out by her daughter several times.

Shouts were heard from the bedroom and not wanting to be caught, Meg and Frances did what any other normal person that had just thrown a brick though someone's bedroom window would do. They ran like crazy ass motherfuckers down the street to their car, hopped in, and drove home hooting and hollering the whole way.

That night had truly been the best night Meg ever spent on her mom's crazy schemes. From that point, she flowered and became strong. She never let anyone step on her again, especially Arthur who had to spent all his concert funds on fixing the damage, and Amelia who'd been in bed with Arthur at the time of said brick throwing was never quite the same. Once Arthur had told her he was clean out of cash, she left him and soon became miserable herself. Meg couldn't have been happier and it was all thanks to her crazy mom.

* * *

So, any of you guys recognize the quote? It was:

"I know this hurts little buddy, but you will love again someday. Because time will heal a broken heart. But not that bitch's window."

-How I Met your Mother, Barney

Alright, until next time!

~MattieWinter~

(I kind of have a headcannon of Fem!France being a great mother that does crazy things for her daughter. She also writes books which is why she tends to be so eloquent. Though most of the time they are erotica novels.)


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